


Light the Flame

by CourfeyracFredMariusCratchit



Series: The Lysani Chronicles [3]
Category: Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Dark Elf Grantaire, Empath Courfeyrac, F/M, Fantasy Realm, High Elf Enjolras, M/M, Magic Academy, Marius has lightening powers, Multi, OT3, Telepath Combeferre, idk probably everyone eventually
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-03
Updated: 2018-11-05
Packaged: 2019-08-16 20:42:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16502366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CourfeyracFredMariusCratchit/pseuds/CourfeyracFredMariusCratchit
Summary: Courfeyrac already has a full life. He attends the prestigious Academy, he is actually trying very hard to be in a steady, serious, committed relationship....Oh, and he and his best friends are trying to undermine the very structure of the society they live in so the eternally warring human factions can maybe stop all that warring.And then his boyfriend just had to go and fall head over heels for a woman.Inspired by all the times I've seen a love triangle and just thought why don't they try poly?Updates should end up fairly regular if I actually succeed at using this as my NaNo project.





	1. 1. Empathy Issues

_He’d done it again. Even in the bleary shapes, he could see the disappointment on their faces. On **his** face. Shame burned deep in him, made worse by the fact that he was really, truly trying. He wanted to believe what this high elf preached—and it was preaching, though it had nothing to do with Styta, with religion at all. There was an ethereal affect to his speech which never ceased to draw him in. But Grantaire couldn’t help who he was. He couldn’t help **what** he was. It just…wasn’t in him to believe in the good in people, trained from birth to know even your closest friend would stab you in the back. _

_Which was part of why it hurt so badly to fail them. And it was such a simple thing he’d asked. Just talk with a few people, see how they felt about the ongoing human faction wars. Or about the Skinchangers. Anything that would relate to their cause. But he had thought he noticed someone listening too hard. He thought they were at risk, so the subject never came up. And that risk he’d gotten himself so worked up over? Simply a lovestruck girl staring at the object of her affections. He furrowed his brow, startled out of his reverie by the prickle of electricity along the fine hairs of his forearm…_

               And Martin Courfeyrac blinked awake, confusion furrowing his brow for a moment as the dream faded. This…this was most certainly not the courtyard they tended toward gathering in. This was the dorms, this was home. The next room over would be Combeferre, sleeping soundly. And next to him was his dear, sweet Lightening Bug. “Marius…thank you.” He swept a hand through disheveled auburn curls, frowning as a couple of them frizzed out under his fingers. “I take it I was borrowing again?”

               The taller boy nodded, concern plain on his face. “It took longer to wake you, Courfeyrac. Are you certain you shouldn’t take up Madame Fauchelevent’s offer of private tutoring?” It was a sensitive subject—Courfeyrac rather disagreed with the stern headmistress’s ideas of how empathy ought be used—but it was hard to watch his lover wake again and again because of issues that weren’t even his own. And it had only gotten worse since they’d welcomed Grantaire into their group of friends.

               Courfeyrac shook his head. “No. I’ll deal with it myself…or perhaps I’ll talk to Combeferre. Telepathy is similar enough, after all.” Except Combeferre always seemed to have a modicum of control. Combeferre wasn’t waking up every night because other people were having nightmares, or were scared. Combeferre wasn’t constantly trying to guard himself against the onslaught of other people’s emotions. Though…if he were fair, neither was he. It was so incredibly useful to just get a little peak into what other people were feeling all the time. He didn’t delve deep enough to be considered intrusive of course, that would be rude. And anyway, he did respect those people who’d asked him to at least attempt not reading them. He let Feuilly have his privacy, and Enjolras. But sometimes, really, it would be nice to just have a night of uninterrupted slumber.

               “Courfeyrac.” It was the sternest tone Marius could muster—impressive really, as he really rarely exercised any type of authority. “You can’t just muscle through this. You need help!” He didn’t particularly want to have this argument—not in the middle of the night, not when their shared bed was so very tempting, and the warmth of the blankets was attempting to lure him back down into a gentle slumber. But Courfeyrac was too dear to him to allow anything to come between them. Even if it was his own powers.

               Courfeyrac shrugged, snuggling down and yawning widely. “Regardless, it’s too late at night to do anything about it except go back to sleep. Tomorrow, I’ll talk to Combeferre, and ask his advice. He knows everything, after all~” It was a tired quip, and an overused one in their circle of friends, but then…well, he was rather tired. “Is that acceptable, Monsieur Pontmercy?”

               “Fine. Just so long as you stick to your word.”

               “When do I ever not?”

               An irritable grunt was his only answer. Clearly Marius had decided on sleeping. Ah, now, if only it were that easy for him. He shifted, laying his head on his boyfriend’s chest. It…always thrilled him slightly, thinking about Marius as his boyfriend. Oh, he’d had lovers before. Casual things, delightful both in spite of and because of their fleeting nature. And thus far, everyone he’d approached about such an arrangement was understanding of it. And then he met Marius.

               They’d never intended to get romantically involved.

               When Marius came to the Academy, they were simply roommates. There was something about the dark-haired boy that simply drew Courfeyrac. The dreamy abstraction, the fierce pride…the good-natured obliviousness to a few social niceties…it all endeared him to Courfeyrac in a way he’d never felt before. And when he’d approached Marius, being rather specific in his choice of words—if anyone could misconstrue being asked out as platonic, it’d be Marius Pontmercy—he had been thrilled to hear even the conditional yes. Of course, it had meant commitment from him. No more girls. He could handle that. Expected it, even. It wasn’t just a fling he was looking for with Marius.

               And now, as he stilled, listening to his lover’s heartbeat, he wondered how he’d gotten so very lucky to be able to truly feel the love in the other man’s heart. It was that feeling, more than anything that slowly lulled him back to sleep. He was warm, he was comfortable, and he was loved. What more could a man want?


	2. 2. Ask Combeferre

               Saturdays were designed for lounging. There was no pressure, no true need to go anywhere or do anything. Either it’d already been accomplished Friday, or it could wait until Sunday. Courfeyrac intended to celebrate this meaning, this opportunity to relax and replenish himself…but his promise to Marius was nagging at him. He managed to pretty well ignore it while no one else was in the common room, entertaining himself with a particularly awful romance novel. He was just giggling over a rather inaccurate and imaginative passage regarding the…ah…act, when Combeferre walked in, settling across the otherwise empty room with what looked to be a medical text and a notebook. “Come on, you’re not really studying on a Saturday, are you, Combeferre?”

               A neatly raised eyebrow was the only response that question deserved, and it was, naturally the one he got. A moment passed, then the other eyebrow raised, too, faint surprise registering on his face. “Another rough night, Courfeyrac?”

               “…Am I that transparent?”

               “Well, aside from the fact that you haven’t properly curled your hair this morning—which I would shrug off if I didn’t know you and Marius had a date tonight—you keep thinking about how you have to talk to me. And a promise.” Combeferre sighed a bit. “Courfeyrac, you know you can always come to me and E if things are getting rough, right?”

               “…It’s not the same, Combeferre. I don’t _want_ to turn my powers off or anything. I like being able to take the pulse of a room without thinking. I like knowing when a conversation’s heading toward treacherous waters, and how to steer it away from that. I mean, I think Joly said it best that one time. E’s the leader, you’re the guide, and I’m the _center!”_ There was defensiveness in his tone, which surprised himself. He hadn’t thought he was that insecure about it. For a moment, he honestly sounded like the petulant child he’d been when he first came to the Academy…and he blushed a bit.

               “I know. I never suggested that. No one’s saying you shouldn’t do what you’re doing while you’re awake. But surely you realize how much we need you functional for that time, right?”

               “…Madame Fauchelevent has a very different view of it than you do.”

               Combeferre snorted. “Since when do you care what she thinks? You’ve always done just what you’ve wanted. Especially with your powers. Though…I don’t recall you borrowing nightmares quite this often in the past. Has anything happened?”

               He sighed a bit. “Look, this can’t affect Les Amis, ok? I…sort of know why, but doing anything about that won’t help anyone.”

               “Courfeyrac?” There was a hint of concern in his voice, brow furrowing.

               “…It’s Grantaire. Ever since we brought him in, I’ve been borrowing his dreams. His nightmares. And he dreads failing us. It’s…It’s like he thinks we’d turn him out for the crime of making a mistake. Combeferre, I just want to _help_ him. But I can’t do that if I can’t even get a decent night’s sleep!”

               “I’m…not surprised. And unfortunately, Courfeyrac, I don’t think you can help him. At least not more than you are already by just…being there.”

               He sighed. “I know.”

               Combeferre shifted, books forgotten, and plopped down on the couch next to Courfeyrac. It was an open invitation, and Courfeyrac took it, leaning against his friend. “You can’t fix everyone, Courfeyrac. I know you want to. You want it so much it hurts sometimes. But you know what’s even better? Being by someone’s side when they manage to work things out themselves.” He grinned lightly, wrapping an arm around Courfeyrac’s shoulders. “And I really do think that Grantaire can, if we just give him time. It’s taken him a lifetime to learn the kind of cynicism and doubt he’s got engrained in him. It’s going to take more than just a few weeks to have him unlearn it. But having us around is helping. I can promise you that much, at least.”

               Courfeyrac grinned as he caught a hint of amusement from Combeferre. “What’s so funny?”

               “Nothing, just…I was suddenly reminded how much like a cat you are. Curling up to the nearest heat source with no regard for propriety whatsoever…” A mischievous grin graced Combeferre’s face for just a moment before disappearing once more. “But I suppose that’s what we get for taking in all the strays we could find…” There was genuine fondness there, softening the words. Their group really was a rag-tag one, united only because they wanted to be united. But somehow, they worked well together, though sometimes Combeferre marveled at the fact.

               Courfeyrac grinned lightly. “Well, I’m glad you like this spoiled housecat—I’d be hard pressed to find a better napping spot. But I suppose I better make sure I don’t make a liar of myself. Do you have any suggestions for helping with this?”

               He sighed a bit. “I’m…honestly not sure, Courfeyrac. Your powers function differently from mine. Taking the time to clear my mind and meditating before bed is more than enough to ensure no one’s thoughts cross into mine during the night. You…you’re already so open to other people. I wouldn’t know the first thing about getting that to close up, even for a little while. And to find a solution that works while you’re sleeping…” He trailed off. It was certainly a conundrum. He breathed a sigh after a moment. “I know you don’t agree with Madame Fauchelevent, but she has a better understanding of your powers than any of us. If only to help with this, I think you really should consider at least talking to her.”

               Courfeyrac straightened up, the flat, accusing look at odds with his usual buoyancy. “No, Combeferre. For all her talk of embracing our powers, she doesn’t control her empathy. She suppresses it. That’s not what I want. That…that would make me the worst kind of hypocrite, considering what we fight for. I can’t go to her, Combeferre.”

               “Alright, alright. Forget I mentioned it. But you need to figure something out. I’ll help where I can, but I don’t have your powers. I can’t be your personal mentor in this.”

               Courfeyrac shifted, settling on the other side of the couch. Tactile a person as he was, there was something in the suggestions he’d heard that just left him…withdrawn. It was an unusual enough mood—he wasn’t sure he liked it. An idle frown creased his face, and he hummed tunelessly, playing with his hair.

               The quiet was welcome for the few hours it lasted, as Combeferre returned to his studying and Courfeyrac indulged in a rare day of simply daydreaming. But soon enough, Enjolras returned to their common room, and with him came at least half their group. Informal meetings like this happened rather frequently, so much so it was rare that they had days where some bit of work wasn’t happening with their group. Courfeyrac straightened up, testing the moods of his friends gently. Nothing exceptional today—Enjolras was getting himself worked up over some point or other, but that was hardly unusual. The rest where various, subtly different shades of excitement and contentment. It usually ended up like that when they gathered, and it was part of the reason Courfeyrac loved his powers so much. He had the privilege of feeling that, instead of just observing it. And he could feed into it when he wanted to. Some days he did just that…but today, he would satisfy himself in the knowledge of his friends’ happiness. “So, what exactly have I missed today, O Fearless Lead?”

               “…Must you call me that, Courfeyrac?” The stab of disappointment made Courfeyrac furrow his brow in confusion—how had he missed the undercurrent of frustration there…?

               “Grantaire?”

               “Yes.”

               “My apologies, Enjolras. I had no intention of offending…as well you know.” He took a moment, lightly gentling the frustration he could feel from is friend, earning a disproving look. Enjolras always was one of the few who could tell when he was meddling. It…wasn’t the most polite thing to be caught doing, but he took care with where and how often he did it, and he wasn’t about to actually hurt anyone. Most of the time, he ended up getting a thank you later on. But the look was enough to get him to stop, at least for the moment.

               “Moving on, I was about to ask Joly if we could rely on the medical students for support if things got worse off campu—”

               “Courfeyrac, love, can we—Oh. Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you were meeting…” Marius had barged in without looking, and was most certainly looking…uncomfortable at realizing he’d interrupted.

               “If you don’t wanna pay attention to it, our room’s empty, Lightening Bug~” He poured genuine affection into his tone, making up for what effectively ended up being a brusque dismissal. He knew Marius didn’t precisely care for the political nature of his friend group, and sticking around to listen would only make him uncomfortable. He’d listen a few moments—Joly had already gone and started answering Enjolras, and the conversation was very likely to move on without him. And there had been something on Marius’s face that said they needed a serious conversation soon—likely he’d be checking to see that Courfeyrac had kept his promise.

               Marius nodded, slipping around the common room and heading to their room, a stern look met by a playful kiss blown by Courfeyrac.

               Once he was out of the common room, Courfeyrac realized he had the eyes of about half the group. “…Go ahead and talk to him, Courfeyrac.”

               “No, Enjolras, it’s alright…”

               “Courfeyrac. This wasn’t a formal meeting anyway, and clearly he needs to talk to you. We can spare you this once.” It was rare for Enjolras to put his input on his friends’ interpersonal relations, but when he did, he generally ended up having good advice.

               “Alright, if you insist.” He smiled lightly, then excused himself, making his way into his room. “Marius…what’s wrong? You honestly look as if you’ve seen a ghost…”

               “A ghost? Maybe…” Uncertainty colored Marius’s tone, and one hand ran through his hair.

               Ok, Courfeyrac was officially Concerned. This was unusual behavior for Marius, and there was definitely something going on to motivate it. He furrowed his brow, perching on the edge of the bed. “Talk to me. What’s going on, Lightening Bug?”

               Rather than bring the taller boy closer, as he’d anticipated, Marius flinched back, as if the nickname stung. He seemed to take a few moments, trying to start the sentence then thinking better of it, reformulating.

               “Marius…whatever it is, it’ll be ok. But you have to tell me…”

               “I met a girl.” He blurted out all at once, looking mortified that he’d done so…

               Oh.


End file.
